Wonderland
by taylortighten
Summary: Something is wrong with John, and the reason is small. About the size of a four year old.
1. The Ears

John Watson slumped down in his chair, pulling his Union Jack pillow into his lap. To most, it would look like he was deep in though. Sherlock wasn't "most" though. He probably wouldn't notice any difference if John had grown an arm out of his head or joined a fight club (they had bruises on them enough as it was, so John doubted many could pick up on that anyway). Sherlock's inability to notice his flatmate's off mood didn't bode well for either man. The last time the doctor was in a foul mood, Sherlock had walked away with a black eye and a bloody nose.

John was fairly certain the same would happen this time around, if he were provoked.

Sherlock was in the kitchen behind John, completely focused on his experiment. Which seemed to involve ears sliced with different knives. The detective positively shivered with excitement, sending half a bloody ear across the table only to land with a disgusting plop on the floor. And apparently that was enough to make John snap, seeing as the man bolted to his feet, absolutely seething.

"Bloody hell, Sherlock!" John griped, throwing his pillow onto his chair with far more force than was needed. "It's not enough that you have a whole two shelves in the fridge for body parts, or half the cupboards for your experiments, is it? You've got to bloody up the counter and the floor and the muss up the entire bloody house!" Furious, he pick up the ear with a fork that was laying forgotten on the table and shoved it towards the detective, his lips curling in disgust. This wasn't the first time that Sherlock had made a bloody mess in the flat, and it was hardly the last, so it was a mystery as to why John decided to make a big deal out of it because of a simple slice of ear.

"Really, John? Of all that I impose on you, this is what you chose to fight about?" Taking the dissected pinna of the outer ear, Sherlock studied his flatmate and hummed quietly, nodding to himself. He assessed the situation, eying the doctor's stance and facial expressions. "Ah, something has come up. A call from your sister?" He wondered aloud, setting away his experiment and pacing towards his friend. "Something that has you on edge. You are extremely stressed, though it isn't directly correlated to your work at the clinic or your work with myself."

"Sherlock, shut it already," John groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and leaning back against the wall dividing the kitchen from the living space. Silence hovered around them for a few long moments, sighs escaping the doctor's lips. "Yeah, yeah, you're right, you know? You're always bloody right."

Silence wormed its way into the room again, floating between the two with a tension that only John felt. Sherlock had lost interest for a moment, but the doctor was expressing strange signs, and he wanted to investigate the reasons behind his odd behavior. Stepping forward and narrowing his gaze, Sherlock deduced everything he could about the doctor. From the toast and beans he had eaten earlier on his dark green jumper to the multiple phone calls that showed from the faint marks on his cheeks, he could pick up almost everything, but he couldn't seem to grasp the specifics.

"You've spoken to your sister three times this week. You've also been in contact with... a government service of sorts, though I can't specify which. The stress has been on the rise for days, since the first call you received three days ago. I cannot decipher why you are enraged about an ear slipping my grasp. It is certainly not the most disgusting thing I have done-"

"It's absolutely not! That's half the bloody reason right there, Sherlock! I'm sick of opening the cupboard to find a plate of cooked spleen or the mug Mrs. Hudson gave me for Christmas covered in purple God-knows-what-!"

"-That was a mixture of sodium and-"

"-I don't care what it was! I just don't want it all over my things! Why must you make such a mess of everything? Can't things just stay nice and clean for one day? I bust my arse at the clinic, I bust my arse cleaning up everything here, and I bust my arse trying to keep you on the good side of New Scotland Yard, and I get nothing in return but more hell placed on my shoulders!" John was clenching his fists, shaking slightly with the anger that boiled through his system.

After a short pause and a few minutes to cool off, the doctor had paced the length of the flat three times before stopping at the sink to fish out the kettle. Sherlock had resumed his work, though half focused on his friend and half focused on the ears. Part of him even managed to keep a grip on everything he touched, making sure to keep his mess confined to at least one area. He didn't wish to be on the military man's bad side (again).

"Are you going to explain?" Sherlock asked some five minutes later, when a cuppa was placed next to his hand on the countertop. John froze beside him, having hoped that Sherlock would forget about the conversation (he could delete irrelevant things, couldn't he?)

"You were right, like I said. I talked with Harry a few times this week. Things are a bit not good. Well, very not good, actually," John sighed, rubbing at his temple with one hand while he sipped at his tea. "And I did phone up a government agency actually. Almost wished your brother was there to butt in." He stopped talking, taking a deep breath and a large sip out of his steaming mug.

"You wished for Mycroft? Really, John, dare I ask what could warrant that sort of hopeless wish?" Sherlock stepped back from his work, raising a simple brow at the other while sipping at his own tea. The two watched each other for a minute, one wishing he could escape the conversation and the other wishing he could delve into his friend's mind.

"Well, let's see... Harry and her bloody drinking has ruined so much that we put together..." He sighed again, steeling himself to admit the truth. "I'm now guardian of a four year old girl named Alice."

* * *

A/N - So, short beginning to my new fic. After the first few chapters, this will be mostly drabble/ficlets/whatever you want to call them. The good thing about that means I'll probably post fairly often, and there's a good chance that I'll be writing/posting another fic while working on this. Feel free to send prompts or ideas at any time! Please review/favorite/alert/something


	2. Compromising

Five hours. It had been five hours since John spilled the beans that he was being placed in charge of a little girl he had seen no more than once every other month.

Sherlock hadn't said a single word to him, instead going back to his experiment. He managed to keep his mess limited to a small area of counter, and John didn't know how to take it. Was that acknowledgement of this hell-bound situation, or consideration towards the doctor's tense mood?

John was at a loss as to what to do. What could he say? He could hardly subject Sherlock to the torment of a child, let alone have to deal with it himself. He didn't owe Harry any favors, but hell if a child deserved to be punished for it. All he could ask was why this had come down on his shoulders.

He wasn't a father; he didn't know what to do. John had barely spent any time around this child, since she was adopted two years ago.

Clara had split on both Harry and little Alice after the first eight months, blaming her decision on the alcoholism instead of the fact that she had met someone else and had rushed off to Scotland with her.

John really had no idea what to do. The child services department wouldn't help him any, and there was no way in hell that the child would be allowed to live with either Harry or Clara. He didn't have the heart to ship the kid to the streets, and everyone he knew that could handle a child didn't want another.

He had even dried up his last resorts.

Molly was scared to death at the suggestion, claiming she didn't have a maternal bone in her body.

Lestrade had his hands full with his never-ending divorce, plus he already had his own kids to worry about.

Mrs. Hudson was too old to handle a little girl.

Stamford had one on the way, and that was plenty for him.

None of his ex girlfriends lasted long enough over the phone to hear him out.

John had no choice.

Bloody hell, there was barely enough money to pay rent and taxis and take-out, let alone everything that was going to be needed to take care of a little girl. There was always the chance of getting money from Harry or Clara, but that still wouldn't be enough to house up and feed another person. John was going to have to talk Sherlock into getting paid for cases that came from the website.

He was going to have to talk Sherlock into taking in a small child that had no relation to either of them, first.

And considering he was getting the cold shoulder, John highly doubted that it was going to be an easy job.

So after thirteen hours of silence from the detective, them both having come and gone their fair share of times (Sherlock to the Yard and John to the store for milk, jam, and tea), John steeled himself for the refusal. If this didn't work, John was going to have to find another flat, where he could take care of this girl.

"Sherlock," John spoke up (seventeen hours later, it ended up being). "We need to talk. It's important."

The detective sighed, turning his gaze from the microwave for a split second to glare at his flatmate. John refused to ask what was in there, knowing he would get severely off track if he had to scold Sherlock about making a mess.

"What is it, John?" He turned back to his explosive experiment, smiling just a little bit at the sight of the spleen growing three times its size.

"I've got to get Alice, remember I told you about her?" The doctor sighed, knowing he was quickly losing Sherlock's attention. "I have no other choice, I'm going to have to bring her here, and I really need you to behave."

"Why must the beast come here? Can you not pawn it off on anyone?"

"Sherlock! I will not pawn my niece off on anyone!" John gaped, putting his hands on his hips and frowning.

"Oh, I see," Sherlock turned to him finally, looking at him slowly. "No one would take it. Child services unavailable? No home to put it in?" They both frowned, knowing exactly where this conversation was leading them.

"Stop calling her an 'it'. I just need her to come here, for a few days at least, until I can find a flat for us, or for someone to take her. All I'm asking is that you don't shoot up the wall or come home covered in blood or set anything on fire, please?" One minute of silence was expected. Five minutes was, as well. But ten was nerve-wracking.

"Keep the child out of my way. Three days and there is no promise that I will last any longer than that. Though, I expect my tolerance to last for three days and eight hours, but don't hold me to that."

* * *

A/N - Yikes, super short chapter. They wont all be like this, I swear. And they all wont take this long to post (I was distracted by Doctor Who, can you blame me?). Alice will appear in the next chapter, promise! After that, it'll probably turn into drabbles. Alert/favorite/review/whatever please


	3. Meeting For The First Time

"Alice, we've got to get going," John sighed, holding out the small pink jacket for the little girl, keeping his patience under wraps. "You do want to meet my flatmate, don't you?" He asked, knowing the four-year old had a crush on the detective, although all she had seen of him so far had been a few pictures from his laptop.

She gasped, hopping up from her place on the floor and ran to his side, nodding her little head and smiling. He smiled back, although hardly half as ecstatic. Saying that he was nervous about taking her to Baker Street was an understatement. The biggest of the century, probably. Sherlock definitely would dislike her, she would probably annoy him, and John would be stuck in the middle of the two.

Running his hand through his short hair, John led her to the waiting taxi outside, dropping the last of her little bags into the boot before helping her buckle herself up. He watched her kick her little legs against the seat, entertaining herself with the view. Little Alice giggled to herself, bouncing in the seat and grinning up at her Uncle John.

"Are you excited?" He asked her, copying her infectious smile.

"Yeah! I getta meet the detective!" She squealed, bouncing again and looking out the window, as if Sherlock would be out there waiting for her. John licked his lips nervously, wishing she wasn't so keen on Sherlock. If he were rude to her, it would only break her tiny little heart. He just nodded, twirling one of her short blond curls between his fingers as they rode to Baker Street.

Twenty minutes later, he was pulling her into his arms and pulling her cases from the back of the taxi and handing over the proper amount of notes to the driver. He left her bags at the bottom of the stairs, deciding that he could get her settled up in his room later, after she was settled with a coloring book or something. Sherlock wasn't in the flat when he got up to the kitchen, and there were no body parts left out on the counter. John could smell an experiment or two, but nothing seemed too horrible. Maybe he actually listened to the doctor for once.

In the meantime, John took Alice down to meet Mrs. Hudson. The two adults settled down with a cup of tea and the little one curled up on the plush chair with a glass of milk.

"How long will she be here?" Mrs. Hudson asked after hearing that the girl was going to be staying up in his room. John just sighed shrugging and shaking his head.

"I've got no idea. There's no room for her upstairs, and even if there was, I'm certain Sherlock wouldn't want to keep her around. He'll be bad enough for the few days that she's here," Frowning, he sipped at his tea, watching her as she watched a child's cartoon show on the telly. "If I can't find someone to take her, I'm going to have to move."

Mrs. Hudson made sounds of protest, but he stopped her short. It was going to be difficult enough for him to make rent as well as feed her proper food, let alone keep it going for more than a week. John was going to have to move, and that meant out of Central London completely. Working at the surgery was hardly enough pay to keep up the rent for his own flat.

It wasn't long before the four-year old was complaining of boredom. Sighing, John bid goodbye to the landlady and took his niece back upstairs, wincing slightly when he noticed that Sherlock had arrived back at the flat with a new case file. He was in his chair, sitting regal as ever, completely oblivious to the commotion around him as Alice let go of John's hand and raced to the detective, excitement practically flowing off of her.

"Mr. Sherlock!" She squealed, looking at him with wide eyes. "Hi! I'm Alice!"

"Hm," Sherlock grunted, slowly lowering his file to send a formidable look at the small girl very nearly climbing up his pant leg. "Alice Watson. Four year of age, slightly underweight for your age at fourteen kilograms, your adopted mother, John's sister, was an alcoholic, thus she neglected you to the point of slight malnourishment. Strawberry-blond hair, though John considers it blond like his own and Harry's. Green eyes, fairly well spoken. Raised in Wales before you were taken in by Harriet and Clara, yes?"

Alice just blinked up at him, abandoning her attempt to hop up into his lap. She nodded slowly, the bounce returning to her little feet as she sped in a half-circle and gaped at John.

"You were right!" She announced, nodding her little head. "He does do that psychic thing!"

Sherlock looked almost affronted at his skills being related to such an abominable practice. Grunting impatiently, he picked his file back up and went back to studying it. John let out the breath he didn't know he was holding, glad that his flatmate didn't insult the small girl. That was about as good as it was going to get, he assumed, knowing that Sherlock did not see favorably towards children. Especially ones that got in his way.

"I think he likes you." John whispered to Alice as he put her back in her coat, announcing that the two of them were going to go pick up Chinese, and Sherlock was going to eat with them, whether he liked it or not.

* * *

A/N - I'm finding it a bit hard to write this fic. I'm horrible at filler and fluff, sorry. Alert/favorite/review, something to let me know I shouldn't give up, please!


	4. Artwork

By the day after little Alice had arrived, John was already itching to be back on the streets, following leads with Sherlock. Instead, he was stuck inside, flipping through the case file, one eye on the pictures of the dead body, the other on the small girl coloring outside of the lines more than inside. The only good thing about the consulting detective not being there was that he wouldn't go off on rants about her drawings. Really, only he would scold a four-year old for not coloring an owl the proper shades of brown instead of a mess of pink and purple.

Distracted by the pictures of the pressure marks around the dead woman's neck, the doctor didn't notice his flatmate's arrival. Well, not until he began correcting Alice's mistakes in her coloring book.

"Sherlock, leave her be, turtles can be yellow when you're four." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and staring down the other man. The detective groused to himself, wrinkling his nose in the direction of the child before sweeping off and into his room.

"He's grouchy." Alice announced, sticking her tongue between her teeth as she dumped the entire box of crayons on the floor to find one color in particular.

"Always," John chuckled, setting down the case file and sliding off his chair to sit next to the little girl. "You don't need to dump them out, just put them in proper, standing up, and you can see all the colors." He told her, starting to put all of the crayons back in their box when she squealed loudly.

"No! You gotta put 'em in rainbow order!" She whined, grabbing at the carton and correcting his mistakes.

Leaning back against his chair, John glanced at Sherlock's door and frowned. It was a stretch to think that he would enjoy her company for more than five minutes, but the least he could do is not act like a teenager and lock himself away for the evening. John groaned and climbed to his feet, knocking on the consulting detective's door and tapping his foot impatiently when Sherlock pointedly ignored him.

"Sherlock, come out. Spend some time at the microscope or something," He rolled his eyes, knocking again. "Just because you're socially inept doesn't mean you have to hide in your room."

"Oh do shut up," A voice hissed from behind the door, followed by Sherlock's face popping into view. "I am not hiding from a child."

Even saying that, he didn't leave his room for nearly an hour. By the time he slid into the kitchen and to his awaiting microscope, Alice was curled up in Sherlock's chair, watching a cartoon as she sucked her thumb. He hissed at the paper beside his work, glaring at the turtle he had tried fixing earlier. John smirked and glanced over at him, knowing he would find the drawing distasteful, and dared him silently to try and throw the page out. The girl may be little, but she could hold her own when it came to pouting and puppy dog eyes. Even a stone like Sherlock wouldn't be able to break her heart.

Turning back to the small girl on the couch, John smiled and watched her. She was quiet, on the edge of falling asleep, trying to keep herself awake to watch the cartoon. It wouldn't be long before she was out, though, so the doctor scooped her tiny form up into his arms and carried her upstairs, eyeing Sherlock apprehensively. The detective seemed eager at the idea of being alone in the flat again, his fingers itching constantly for the screeches of his violin or the smells of various compounds. John had promised him no more than a week, but two days had gone by, and he was already bored out of his mind. If murderers didn't start jumping out of the woodwork, he'd have to do it himself.

John, on the other hand, had his hands full. Although Alice was practically dead on her feet, she insisted that she needed a bedtime story before he left. He had to sit on the floor beside the small bed that was tucked up against the wall, his back aching from bending over to show her the pictures in the book as he read.

Between constantly picking up the things she left everywhere, and keeping an eye on her all the time, John was exhausted. And he hadn't even had to deal with her and a day at the surgery yet. Plus the fact that he was still trying to find a place for her to live permanently, which was apparently the hardest thing to figure out.

Sherlock was surprisingly quiet when John made his way back down to the kitchen, rubbing at his neck and watching his friend as he put the kettle on. The detective was focused on his work, face pressed to the microscope as he jotted notes on the pad next to him.

"You like her." He commented absently, smirking at Sherlock when he snapped his head up, eyes narrowed.

"Excuse me?" Sherlock questioned, frowning at him.

"Alice," John clarified, motioning to Sherlock's other side. "You haven't destroyed her art yet."

"She gave it to me," The detective answered after a moment's hesitation, neither confirming nor denying the truth of the statement. "It would do me no good to have a sobbing child simply because I outwardly disliked her drawing."

"You like her." John repeated, grinning and making himself a cuppa.

Maybe the week with her around wouldn't be terrible after all.

* * *

A/N - For those of you wondering what's next, here's the scoop: I'll be slowly updating this (hopefully more often than I have been), while I work on a few new ideas. Depending on how my ideas go, my next fic will either be Avengers related (Steve/Tony centric), Doctor Who related (Eleven/Rose), or another Johnlock. Stay tuned! And please review/favorite/alert! Or even feel free to send me some ideas (for anything!).


	5. Daycare

"Absolutely not." Sherlock hissed into his mobile, stomping around the flat like a petulant child.

"You just need to pick her up and leave her with Mrs. Hudson," John sighed, rubbing at his temple and eyeing his closed office door where Sarah was knocking for him. "That is all you have to do, Sherlock."

"And why must I do this?" The detective grouched, although he was already collecting his coat.

"Because I'll do something for you. Help with some experiment or something." He grudgingly answered.

"A disgusting one," Sherlock countered, confident that he could find some sort of good payback. "You'll hate it."

"Great," John rolled his eyes, holding up a finger to stall Sarah when she opened the door and narrowed her eyes at him. "Goodbye Sherlock, and play nice."

Shrugging off that last bit, Sherlock conceded to 'play nice' with Alice, and only her. There was absolutely no need to be polite to the group of elderly women that were taking care of her during the day. Sherlock already wondered why John bothered to pay these women, when they had a perfectly good woman downstairs to do that job for free. John said it was because the daycare had other child for her to socialise with, but Sherlock didn't quite think that was the full reason.

Sherlock was already growing impatient with the task when it took him three tries to catch a cab, and by the time he had gotten to the childcare centre, he was late picking up Alice.

"There you are." One of the women scolded, tapping her foot and pursing her lips in his direction. He simply walked passed her, ignoring her haughty comment and going straight for the little girl. Alice was still colouring in her princess book, completely oblivious that he had arrived until he called her name.

"Mr. Sherlock!" She grinned bright and wide, only the way a child could. "I thought Mrs. Hudson was gettin' me!"

"No, apparently she couldn't," Sherlock answered, waving his hand and hurrying the girl up and out of the building. "But she will be waiting for you at the flat."

On their way out, Alice grabbed Sherlock's hand and refused to let go. She always held John or Mrs. Hudson's hand when she was near the street. It was a rule, or something. Sherlock wasn't paying close to enough attention to her long-winded rambles to really know why.

Making quick work of the cab ride by glaring at the driver, the detective pretended to listen to Alice talk about learning to write her numbers, nodding thoughtfully and humming when it seemed needed. She didn't seem to notice his disinterest. It was a short ride, but that didn't deter her from chatting his ear off, wanting to fill him in about her entire day before she could go off and do the same thing to the landlady.

"And then, and then at nap time, Miss Helena fell over Robbie's blanket, and fell on top of Francine!" Alice giggled, bouncing in her seat and mimicking the story with her arms, making sound effects that were more like explosions than anything else.

Sherlock nodded, tapping away at his phone and idly wondering how John paid so much undivided attention to such an active child. He was already exhausted.

Unfortunately, the exhaustion didn't look like it was ending soon.

When the two of them got back to Baker Street, there was a little note on Mrs. Hudson's door saying she went out for the shopping and it would be at least an hour before she returned.

Alice didn't seem to mind, seeing how she continued talking the entire walk up the stairs.

"After that, we ate grapes! I'm not sure I like grapes though, because they're squishy in a weird way. Y'know what I mean, Mr. Sherlock? They pop in your mouth and it's weird! But the green ones aren't bad because they're sour. Sandra made a really funny face when she ate the greens ones. Like this!" Alice closed her eyes and puckered her lips, flapping her arms around. "Did you see that? That's what she looked like!"

"Very interesting." Sherlock commented, dropping onto the couch with a sigh and grudgingly keeping an eye on her as she plopped down onto the floor and pulled out a new coloring book from under John's chair.

You owe me for this. He texted John, huffing to himself.

Alice kept telling him stories about the children at the daycare and the antics they pulled on the women who watched them, fully believing that Sherlock was listening everything she said.

It wasn't until he began actually replying to her stories that he realised he was listening.

* * *

A/N - I'm terrible, ugh, I didn't mean for it to take this long to write another chapter, especially one this short. But I've got five other stories I'm trying to do all at once, so forgive me! Favorite/alert/review please~


	6. Child Services

"No, no, that wont work," John shook his head, pacing the floor of the living space and trying to keep his voice gentle so he wouldn't worry Alice. "No, I told you, it has to be in Central London somewhere. In the city." Sherlock watched the doctor carefully, monitoring his movements while he half-examined a mould sample under his microscope.

"Mr. Sherlock? Can I have a juice box?" The little voice shook Sherlock out of his stray thoughts and his sharp eyes flicked down to the little girl. She stared up at him, her light eyes wide and annoyingly innocent.

"Can't you get it yourself?" He questioned idly, raising an eyebrow. Really, it was enough that the fridge was cluttered with ridiculous things like juice boxes, but having him get the girl her things? That was too much.

"Uncle John says there are grown up things in there that I'm not 'possed to see." Alice dutifully answered, nodding her head and pressing her little fists into her hips.

With a grunt, Sherlock gave in and moved to the fridge, rolling his eyes as he grabbed one of the juice boxes from the row on the top shelf, furthest from the few remaining experiments that the detective had been allowed to keep. He didn't want to work with goat liver or year-old feces, nope, it was his choice to work with nail clippings and animal-based spores. At least, that s what he told himself every time he saw his half-empty fridge.

Passing over the juice box, Alice wrinkled her nose and pouted up at him.

"I wanted the apple, not the grape!" She whined, crinkling her face up even more.

"We only have grape." Sherlock lied, going as far as putting the little straw in the box before pushing it into the girl's hand.

"No!" John's loud groan interrupted Alice s next complaint, catching both the girl's and the detective's attentions. "I don't think it'd be right to do that to her. If that's my only other option, then I've got to look for a place outside of the city."

Alice shrugged it off as an adult conversation that she didn't need to understand, and skipped back over to where she had been practicing how to write her letters. Sherlock watched her sip at the grape juice, amazed for just a moment at the odd shift in the room. The girl hadn't noticed it, but eying John's movements made the mood startlingly clear. The phone call was to a child services employee, he had figured that out before the call was even made, but Sherlock had been too absorbed in the growing mould sample to realise that this was an important call and not just another complaint to the department that obviously didn't care for the children the way they were supposed to.

"John-" Getting off his stool and moving to stop John in his pace pattern, the doctor didn't seem to hear him.

"She's been here a week longer than you told me she would be. I can't afford to keep her here without Clara or Harry helping pay, and there is no way I can move to another flat in the city. You told me you'd have them agree to help with the finances or you'd find a place for her to live. You are bloody ridiculous liars, and I'm through with this!" After that, John hung up and grabbed at his short hair, grumbling to himself under his breath and continuing his quick steps on the floor.

"John, you said you would have to look for a place outside of the city-" Sherlock started, a wrinkle popping up between his eyebrows.

"I'll have to, because the bloody child services department wont help me at all, and I definitely can't continue to stay here when I work so often, especially considering the work I do with you." John slumped down into his chair, his eyes straying to his niece.

"I doubt your work at the surgery or the cases we solve could be detrimental to young Alice," Sherlock told him, pausing before sliding his way back to the microscope. "Don't fret so much, you can ask Mycroft for help if you insist that the child services department is of no use to you. I promise I wont ruin her innocence for another week or so."

With that comment, John s eyes slid from Alice s sloppy alphabet to his flatmate's hunched position over the desktop. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. It was almost as if the detective didn't mind having her around. And that was completely impossible, considering he complained about her almost every single time the two adults had a moment without the girl beside them. Sometimes, he didn't even wait until she was gone before he began to hiss about her little annoyances.

John chalked up the words to the polite sliver of humanity that existed somewhere in Sherlock. It didn't happen often, but hey, Sherlock had learned a lot since the two of them had moved in together and it was about time he started to act human to other people. Now only if he could use that bit of patience and kindness at crime scenes, perhaps the officers at the Yard wouldn't quite hate him so much. They d definitely get more work if Sherlock didn't insult people the very second he met them.

Sliding off his chair and sitting beside Alice, John smiled and checked over her work, congratulating her on her improvements and reminding her to cross her T s and dot her I s.

"Who got you the juice box, Alice?" He asked, frowning and glancing over at the fridge as if he would see it wide open with (another) head sitting on the bottom shelf.

"Mr. Sherlock did. He was 'possed to get me apple, but he said we re outta them." She told him, pointing at the grape box and pouting again.

"Sherlock got you juice and didn't complain?" John thought aloud, more to himself than the girl, but receiving an 'uh-huh' in reply anyway.

Now that was just impressive. There was never a time that Sherlock didn't complain about doing something for someone else unless it benefited him in some way, and there was absolutely nothing to get out of treating this little girl nicely. Except John would no doubt start a row with him if he yelled at the girl or exposed her to rotting corpses.

Sitting back in his chair and pulling the flag pillow into his lap, John glanced between his best friend and his niece, a smile playing at his lips as he caught up with it all.

Sherlock liked her. And he didn't want to see either of them leave.

* * *

A/N - Of course, with my luck, the moment I get on a roll and start typing up chapters, my laptop breaks. Finally, I've recovered some of my material and I'm getting things moving again. Alice-verse will still be updated slowly while I put together my next story and get it ready for publishing. Be patient, please! And please review/favorite/alert/etc :)


	7. The New Case

"Finally!"

The cheer came from the top of the stairs, nearly frightening the socks off John and Alice both. The doctor hesitated at the doorway, peeking into the living space. Sherlock was bouncing around, grinning and whipping on his coat.

"Sherlock?" John questioned slowly, bending over to tug off Alice's jacket.

"Don't bother shedding your jackets, there's been a murder!" Sherlock answered, waving his scarf around before whipping it on. "Finally, a serial killer who doesn't sound madly boring, John!"

"Wait, hold on," John sighed, rubbing a hand over his tired face. "I can't go running off to a crime scene and leave Alice here."

"Why not?" He questioned, pausing in his excitement to frown at his flatmate.

"She's too young to be left alone! And Mrs. Hudson isn't downstairs, I've got no one else to leave her with."

They both hesitated, Sherlock huffing and adjusting his coat while John bent over to start untying Alice's shoelaces.

"Can't you bring her with you?" The detective spoke up after a moment.

"And let her see a dead body?" John stood, leaving Alice in her shoes, to round on Sherlock with a look that could burn a hole through him. "Are you bloody insane?"

The little girl started to whine, tugging on the sleeve of John's coat until he looked down at her and remembered that he hadn't taken off her shoes. Smoothing her hair and flashing her a small smile, he made sure to take a breath before looking back at his flatmate.

"John, hurry and make your choice. The body is getting cold."

"Fine, Sherlock, you know what? I'll bring her, but she's not getting near a body. And if that means I don't either, then so be it."

Rushing to tie the little girls laces back up and put her jacket back on, John grumbled to himself as Sherlock started off to get a cab without them. Alice kept whining, this time about having to go back out into the cold weather, and not being able to color like she had wanted to do.

The doctor and the girl barely made it to the cab before Sherlock told the driver to take off. John was still muttering to himself and straightening Alice's rumpled clothes.

The detective didn't take notice to his flatmate's frustration; instead he began talking about the details of the case that Lestrade had already told him.

"Sherlock!" John hissed over his niece's head. "Don't talk about a man eviscerating a woman in such detail with Alice in such close earshot!"

With Sherlock very nearly pouting, arms crossed and all, the ride to the crime scene was short and quiet. Except Alice's complaints of being hungry, and bored, and tired, and cold, and a million other things only a child would bring up.

Finally, they arrived, and thankfully, the body was fairly hidden behind a dumpster. And not a hair was seen from Alice's view, because of the position of Anderson's examination team and their equipment.

"I've got to talk to Lestrade about getting Anderson's idiocy away from my body before he contaminates something." Is all Sherlock said before whipping off to corner Lestrade at his police car.

"Come on, little lady, lets see if... my, uh, friend, Sally, wouldn't mind watching you for a minute while I help Sherlock." John sighed, grabbing Alice's hand and leading her over to where Sergeant Donovan was ordering people around.

"Hi, Miss Sally!" Alice squealed when they were within speaking distance. "I like your hair!"

"Oh, well, thank you...?" Sally frowned, looking from the little girl to John and back again. "Watson, what is this? You're bringing children to crime scenes now? Did the freak make you do this?"

"Sally, this is my niece, Alice," He told the detective, ignoring the quip in Sherlock's direction. "I couldn't find a sitter on such short notice and I was hopping you could just keep her with you while I help Sherlock. It wont be long, you know how he likes to rush."

Donovan nodded, grunting about it not being under her job title, but taking Alice's hand none the less.

Just like John predicted, Sherlock's deducing didn't take long and he pretty much brushed off all of the medical comments John made.

"Hey, Sally..." The doctor hesitated, walking up to the detective with a frown. "Where did Alice go?"

"Oh, the girl?" She paused, glancing around. "I'm not sure."

* * *

A/N - I had starting writing both a Halloween chapter and a Christmas chapter, and ended up missing both holidays. I'm so sorry for the lack of updates, but I'm on holiday break from school so there should be new chapters of this as well as a new fic or two.


	8. Decisions

John took a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth. Pursing his lips, he hesitated before even looking up at Sally.

"Did you just say you're not sure where Alice is?" The doctor asked slowly, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. "Did you lose my niece?"

"No, she's around here somewhere, I'm sure of it-" Sally nodded swiftly, holding up a placating hand.

"Donovan," He began, balling his fists at his side. "I know I promised my mum I would never hit a woman, but I might have to break that promise."

Before either of them could say another word, Lestrade rushed over, grabbed John by the shoulders and pushing him a step back. He shook his head, taking a second to catch his breath, seeing as he had nearly sprinted over in order to keep things from getting messy.

"Wait, John, the girl's in my car." Greg said, shooing Sally away before she could talk herself into any deeper trouble.

"In your car?" The doctor asked, confused but at least starting to cool off.

Lestrade nodded, grabbed him and leading the way to the police car parked at the edge of the crime scene. The front window was rolled all the way down, where they could hear a children's song playing from the speakers. Looking in, Alice was kicking her little feet against the seat and colouring sloppily out of the lines in a half-used dinosaur colouring book.

Breaking a sigh of relief, John felt his entire being relax at the sight of the girl, knowing that she was taken care of by someone he trusted.

"I always keep some of the boy's old stuff in the trunk just in case." Lestrade mentioned, opening the door so John could scoop her up.

"Uncle John, look! I like the birdy one most!" Alice chirped as soon as she saw John. Taking the book, he noticed she certainly did seem to colour in the pterodactyls more so than any of the other dinosaurs.

"Woah, those are really awesome, aren't they?" He answered, grinning at her and nodding his thanks in Lestrade's direction. John kept a hand clasped to Alice's even once he got them into a cab, leaving Sherlock behind at the crime scene, just to make sure he wouldn't lose her again.

The car ride back to the flat was relatively silent, considering Lestrade had left her keep the colouring book and the crayons. Alice's full focus was on scribbling over a triceratops, and not a single bit of it was paying any attention to her uncle, who was clinging a little too much to her.

Having her gone, even just for a few minutes, it scared the living hell out of him, and he really had not a clue how to react. In that short period of time, he finally realised how much he cared for her, and how much he didn't want to lose her.

He couldn't give her up for adoption now.

"Growing attached," Sherlock said later that night after Alice was put to sleep and the two men were sitting around the fireplace, silent. "I didn't think it would happen so fast."

"What?" John questioned, put off by the comment.

"I knew it would happen, that's your nature, but the emotions have appeared six days and two hours earlier than I would have predicted."

Surprisingly, Sherlock stopped his remarks there, leaving John to ponder the situation by himself.

John either had to somehow convince Sherlock to let the girl stick around, and he'd have to rent 221C as a spare bedroom, or he'd be forced to move out of the city and give up his life of crime solving and adventure. He'd probably have to leave the clinic and find a new job somewhere else, new friends... That wasn't his favorite idea ever.

Which all came down to the insanely slim chance that Sherlock would be all right with Alice staying. The thought of the detective letting the child into his life when she was just one more thing on his list that doesn't quite make any sense. Like the planets and the point of artificial grass.

"I have to try." John resolved, downing the last of his tea and jumping up to face the executioner.

He nodded, forcing confidence through his veins, and marching to Sherlock's door. John knocked, surprised when the door opened immediately.

"Yes?"

"Sherlock, I've made a decision," Sucking in a breath, John blinked slowly. "I'm going to legally adopt Alice, and I'm not going to move out of this flat."

The detective stayed suspiciously silent, taking his time to examine John's expression and physical attitude.

"Okay," He nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. "As long as you do something for me."

* * *

A/N - I'll be honest, I have no idea where I'm going with this fic, so I end up taking ages to write each chapter. I think I'm going to put with on the back burner and focus on other ones in the mean time. I will update this as often as possible, but I can't promise any sort of schedule.


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